To Dance With You
by shoefreak37
Summary: Emmett and Rosalie are a couple marked by their physical relationship. Were they always so comfortable with one another? Rosalie was marred by invisible scars. Emmett wanted her anyway. Judge's Pick in the All You Need Is Love contest.


**Penname: **shoefreak37**  
Song Inspiration: **I'm Happy Just to Dance With You**  
Title of One-Shot: **To Dance With You**  
Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie**  
POV: **Omniscient Narrator**  
Rating: **M/NC-17**  
Word Count: **3,709**  
Summary or Description: **Emmett and Rosalie are a couple marked by their physical relationship. Were they always so comfortable with one another? Rosalie was marred by invisible scars; Emmett wanted her anyway.

Author's Note: **This oneshot was posted originally anonymously under the All You Need Is Love contest profile. I'm ridiculously thrilled that it got a Judge's Pick and fourth place in public voting. This is the first serious canon het thing I've written, so I'm very happy with it. Hope you like it!**

* * *

The flames of what he thought to be Hell intimately licked every bit of Emmett's flesh. From the backs of his knees, to his eyelids, to his collarbone, and down to the skin between his toes the fire caught him ablaze, a conflagration swallowing him, diminishing him to nothing but a series of four letter words: pain, fire, hurt, ache, heat, and several others that were much more colorful.

After he was attacked, before the fire started, he had been flown by an angel: an angel that carried him as though he were a small sack of sugar or a bouquet of flowers. Yes, she had definitely been flying. The once familiar greenery of the forest was blurred by speed, and the ferocious wind cut into his wounds.

_She will stop the pain,_ Emmett had thought, but that was before he knew what pain was. The bear's claws that had torn through his muscle and sinew might as well have been the wings of a moth, because the tiny pricks inflicted were minimal compared to the aching heat that raged through him.

Emmett would have been confused had he remembered what it was to think. Why would an angel take him to Hell? She had been so striking with her wheat colored hair, skin as pale and smooth as his mother's porcelain jewelry box, and eyes like liquid gold. Her scent was what he had noticed the most, but burning as he was, he could not recall what he had compared it to.

Self-conscious enough to still feel shame, Emmett was humiliated when he could not keep himself from crying out. Once he had opened his mouth to let the first noises fly, he was unable to stop, although it did not help.

Rosalie fretted over him.

The limited flashes of green flecks in hazel eyes had won her over. She had watched him before the bear attacked, on several different occasions. Initially, it had been the soft dark curls that framed his face, and the child-like roundness of his dimpled cheeks that lured her, but it was his eyes that sealed her attraction with a heady sense of finality. Maybe, she would have asked Carlisle to change him even if he had not been mortally wounded.

Maybe not.

Regardless, he was changing. She refused to let him die there, overtaken by a creature more than twice his size, an unfair fight. Because of her decision to take him to Carlisle and request he be spared, his youthful vigor would be multiplied more than tenfold, and he would be frozen just as she was. Rosalie was comforted and frightened by that; she felt a bit too much like an omnipotent being, choosing immortality for someone else.

Together, they would drink blood. Rosalie hoped he would not mind, and, perhaps, he would love her even though her soul was fractured, despite the fact that she had saved him by making him a demon, and overlooking that she was marred by invisible scars.

His screams had died down to moans. Rosalie reached out placing her frosty hands on his heated cheeks. Hearing his heart beat decrease, she knew it would not be much longer until he awakened, reborn into her world.

_Cold_, Emmett thought. He had forgotten such a word existed until he felt it on his face. What seemed like chilly whispers of fingertips stroked his brow, cheeks, and neck, a balm to the fury that had wracked his body for days.

Suddenly, the scent he had forgotten filled Emmett's nostrils, much stronger than it had been before: rock candy and cream soda; it was lovely, sweet, and familiar.

_Does pain go away in Hell?_ Emmett thought, because the burn was, in fact, lessening.

"Can he think now, Edward? Is it almost over?" he heard, the voice speaking was like a soft breeze sweeping through the trees.

"Yes, he thinks he's in Hell, but is confused since the pain is lessening. It will not be long now, Rosalie," a male voice said, equally as smooth as the female's.

_Wait…Did he read my mind?_

A breathy chuckle followed Emmett's thought as though in confirmation, but Emmett did not dwell on it, because his angel was named Rosalie.

* * *

"Emmett," Rosalie whispered. "Emmett, come on."

The hot, moist scent of the woman in the woods was overpowering, and Emmett had to drink. Did Rosalie not smell her? His throat itched and was oddly dry even though his mouth flooded with venom. Swallowing thickly, Emmett tried to pretend the aching void in his chest was ignorable, the throbbing in his dried veins unimportant. He failed.

"Rosie," he whimpered, making sure to use her pet name. "Please. I have to, and I'm sorry."

Taking a step towards him, Rosalie brought a hand to his face. Emmett's brow was puckered, his eyes apologetic. She had been so proud of him, and the tiny flecks of butterscotch that had finally begun to appear would once again be fully overrun by crimson.

Rosalie could deny him nothing; she loved him. In the short months she had known him, Emmett had completely enveloped her in affection like she had never known. She loved him because he had taught her what it was to be kind, so she would let him have what he wanted, and she would help him when guilt replaced his thirst.

"Are you sure, Emmett? She is something to someone. We can leave," she assured.

"I can't," Emmett said, defeated. He squirmed and shuffled in place, trying to maintain some kind of semblance of humanity instead of bolting and pouncing like a feral animal. Emmett felt feral, but fidgeted like a petulant child.

"Okay," Rosalie nodded, indicating that he could follow-through with his kill.

Emmett was gone before she could finish the word.

Later, once he had been sated, Rosalie took care of the body while Emmett lamented being a murderer. Sitting with his head between his knees, he knotted his fingers in his blood-matted hair. Not only had he completely drained her, he had been very messy about it.

Rosalie wrapped her thin, strong arm around Emmett's broad shoulders and squeezed. She hated to see him in such agony, but could not deny her relief; if he had not felt guilt, she could very easily lose him to his lust for human blood.

Moaning, Emmett dug his fingernails into his face. Why had he not listened to Rosalie? The woman was dead and drained so quickly, and his want for blood had lessened, but it had not gone away.

"Rosie, I'm so sorry… I should have listened to you," Emmett said, arms clasped around his knees as he drew them closer. He wondered how he could ever look at her again.

"It happens, Em," Rosalie said, attempting to comfort.

"It's never happened to you, though, right? Not to any of you. Jesus, Rosie, they'll all know," Emmett said, his voice muffled from between his knees.

"Edward went out on his own for a few years, shortly before I was turned. He drank from humans only during that time, and… I've killed before," Rosalie said, reluctant to divulge her past to Emmett.

Looking up in surprise, Emmett felt a rush of relief. Rosalie always seemed so perfect, so controlled. If she had at some point shown weakness, maybe there was still a chance for him.

"You have? How did you go back to drinking from animals after that? The taste is… so different."

Rosalie sighed; it was time to tell Emmett everything.

"I did not say that I drank from a human. I have killed since I've become this, but not because of my thirst."

Emmett looked at her with curious, blood-red eyes. What other reason would she have to kill? "I don't understand…"

Nervous when faced with the truth, it was Rosalie's turn to fidget. She took an unnecessary breath and relayed her story, from her engagement, to her subsequent rape and would-be murder, to Carlisle changing her, and finally, she told him about her vengeance on those that had ruined her.

Listening raptly, Emmett did not interrupt while Rosalie spoke, although his thoughts were unleashing strings of profanity. Rage replaced his guilt and he wanted nothing more than to feast upon those men that had hurt his angel, his rescuer. He would have torn them apart and bathed in their blood with such ferocity that there would be no room to doubt that he was a monster.

Rosalie stared at Emmett expectantly, awaiting his reaction. His brow was twisted, and she reached out to smooth the troubled lines. She wanted him to speak, and as the silence stretched on, she worried he had understood how broken she was.

"I wish you hadn't done that, Rosie," Emmett muttered, reaching up to clasp Rosalie's hand; he did understand Rosalie was broken, but not in the same way she thought. Dropping both of her hands into her lap, Rosalie looked down at them, crestfallen. She felt her fears had been confirmed.

"Emmett, I've been so afraid of telling you all this. I am so far from the person you think I am, and I've been fine with that, but it's not fair to you—"

"I wish you hadn't done that, so I could've," Emmett stated, interrupting. He ducked his face down so that he could be level with Rosalie. Still attempting to look away, she turned her head to the right. Emmett grabbed her chin. He loved Rosalie, all of her, including her hidden wounds and her bravado; he was determined to tell her.

"Rosie, please look at me," she finally lifted her eyes, something impelling in Emmett's voice. Despite the red that immersed Emmett's eyes, Rosalie could see the tenderness there. "You're perfect, amazing, and brave."

Rosalie shook her head and shrugged off Emmett's hold on her chin. He realized, with a start, why she had always avoided physical contact, and why it always had to be her to initiate things. Up until that point, the most she had allowed was a lingering kiss on the cheek. Emmett felt like a fool for not realizing something sooner.

"I love you," Emmett admitted. "Will you let me?"

Rosalie nodded, not letting on that she already had.

* * *

The kiss between them grew heated, and Rosalie felt a twisting deep in her stomach that she had not felt before.

Emmett knew she was aroused, and wondered if he could act upon it.

"Rosie," he panted. "Do you want to?"

Rosalie honestly did not know if she wanted to; her body obviously did, and the feel of Emmett's muscled frame, even fully clothed, pressed against hers was satisfying.

"Yes," she answered, although she was not convinced. She did not want Emmett to know that.

Emmett wasted no time in trailing his lips down her neck as he began undressing her. Rosalie felt enthralled by his strong hands taking charge, and began undressing him, as well.

Within moments they were both naked and Emmett laid himself on top of Rosalie. She felt his arousal against her body, and something snapped; it was as though she was in that street again, the smell of booze and blood in her nose, the sound of wicked laughter filling her head as she was violated.

With strength she was not aware she had, she pushed Emmett away causing him to crash into the dresser across the room. She quickly scrambled for her clothes, and when she could not gather them rapidly enough, she settled for the bed sheet to cover her nakedness.

Emmett had to fight away a growl that threatened escape him; he was, after all, a newborn vampire who had been physically assaulted. Looking at Rosalie's frightened face, he was able to hamper those primal urges easily.

"I shouldn't have pushed," Emmett stated, hands held out in surrender. "Is it okay if I come closer to you?" Emmett would wait on Rosalie until he was a pile of dust if she asked it.

Rosalie nodded, embarrassed and shaken. Why could she not let Emmett make love to her? Emmett had been nothing but kind, gentle, patient, and loving. She felt worthless.

"Em, I don't deserve you. I'm so sorry," Rosalie sobbed, hiding her face. She wanted to weep. She wanted to feel the trails of hot tears sliding down her face, and she wanted Emmett to wipe them away.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, and you deserve anything you want. I'm happy just to be with you, Rosie. I don't have to have anything more than that," Emmett said, approaching her slowly.

Without further preamble, she flung herself into his arms, begging him to hold her together; Emmett was strong, so he did.

* * *

Rosalie was filled with pride. Emmett had gone into town with her to pick out some patterns and fabrics for a new dress. She knew how uncomfortable he was, because she knew him, but he never let it show. Flashing his dimpled grin whenever possible, he had charmed the ladies in the shop. Rosalie found his flirtatious nature endearing, and, if it helped him overcome his thirst, she was not jealous. She did, however, give one over-zealous girl the evil eye when she had caught her looking a bit too long at Emmett's backside. He belonged to Rosalie, after all.

Emmett drank in Rosalie with his eyes. Every day he spent with her saw that his affection for her grew, and watching her measurements be taken for a new dress, he could not deny the impious thoughts he had; the tape measure hugged her hips the way he had only imagined.

He had been a vampire a little over a year, and it had been months since his last slip-up. Finding that his bloodlust was waning, it was replaced by a different craving, a craving that he absolutely could not act upon. Rosalie and he had still not been intimate; he hoped that would soon change, because he had plans to ask her to marry him.

Weeks before, he had spoken to Carlisle about it. He could not very well ask her father for her hand, and Carlisle was the closest thing to a father Rosalie had. Emmett's mother had been sure to raise him right, and he knew that if she were somehow aware he had not done things properly, she would have been thoroughly disappointed.

Once Rosalie was done shopping, Emmett escorted her back to the home they shared with the others. They had a lovely garden out back, and Emmett insisted they go for a stroll to see the new roses that Esme had planted. Emmett had -what he thought was- a lovely speech prepared, and could not wait to ask Rosalie to be his permanently.

Stopping in front of the freshly planted flowers, Emmett gulped and got down on one knee in front of Rosalie. He looked towards her and was bolstered by the large smile that had spread across her face.

Rosalie could not help but smile at him; he was so handsome and boyish on his knees in the loose dirt. Stifling a giggle, she noticed how nervous he looked. How could he be nervous? Did he not know that he had held her heart captive from the moment she saw him?

Thinking about how lovely Rosalie looked in the rapidly departing light of evening, Emmett lost his voice and could not remember what he was going to say.

"Rosie," he started. "These flowers have the same name as you." He stopped. He did not think that was what he wanted to say. "They are prickly on the outside and some people might think you're prickly." Rosalie looked at him and laughed. Emmett was embarrassed, completely mucking up what he'd meant to say. Taking a deep breath he stood up and wrapped his arms around Rosalie's waist, bringing her to his chest, whispering into her hair.

"I love you more than anything. You make those flowers look ugly. You're the most wonderful woman I've ever met, and I know you're more than just a pretty face. I want you to marry me, so say yes, ok?" Emmett chuckled, the sound resonating warmly in his chest, tickling Rosalie's ear where it was pressed against it. She loved that sound.

"Of course, I will," she replied.

* * *

Rosalie looked every bit the angel that Emmett had once mistaken her for. Her gown was immaculately white and shifted noiselessly as she glided towards him down the aisle. Alight with a bright smile, her face rivaled that of any of the highest seraphim. More than that, Emmett knew what was in Rosalie's heart matched her appearance, no matter what she projected.

Emmett waited on her, and Rosalie was overflowing with unabashed joy. The days leading up to the wedding, she found herself pushing down giggles and blissful chuckles that threatened to bubble out for no explainable reason. Often, she found herself wondering how she had been so lucky to have found him. He had accepted what she had made him with unmatched poise, fallen in love with her knowing her past, and showed unending patience for all her inadequacies.

Rosalie was determined that she would make love to her husband on her wedding night. Not another day would pass that she would allow her attackers a hold over her perfect eternity; she had let it go on long enough.

They had opted for traditional vows; Emmett was not very good with making up pretty words, and Rosalie simply wanted to be his wife. However, she had insisted on chapter thirteen of the first epistle to the Corinthians to be read, because Emmett's love _was _patient and kind.

The ceremony was extravagant although the guests were limited, and Rosalie had insisted on wedding cake and champagne. Emmett let her do what she wanted, and hoped it was the day she had always dreamt of, even going as far as to swallow a bit of cake and chase it down with the bubbly drink.

Together, they danced to the light music that played once the vows were finished. Rosalie led and Emmett followed. He was unsure of what to expect for their first evening as husband and wife, and he was surprisingly unworried, because Rosalie had just promised to love him forever.

"Em," Rosalie started, clutching his hand as they swayed together. "I—"

"Rosie, you don't have to say a thing. Just because we said 'I do,' doesn't mean I'm expecting anything more of you. You've given me plenty, and, right now, I'm happy just to dance with you," Emmett smiled, twirling Rosalie around playfully. Rosalie was sure he was lying, even though he was not. She loved what she thought was a lie almost as much as she loved the man speaking it. Almost.

Rosalie was filled to the brim with affection and contentment; she felt it cleansing the tarnished mess that had been her spirit. Before Emmett, she had been like a beaten tin cup, empty and flawed, but he smoothed out the dents and made her perfect in her imperfection.

When Carlisle tried to cut in, Emmett simply said, "No offense, Carlisle, but I don't think I can give her up tonight." Carlisle had laughed, backing away with his hands in the air.

Emmett and Rosalie moved together until the music stopped.

When they were alone, Rosalie told Emmett what she wanted. Emmett was reluctant, but he wanted her. Confirming several times that she would be okay, Rosalie began undressing Emmett to convince him. He insisted that she take off her own clothing and get under the bedding before he joined her.

Emmett turned his back to Rosalie as she undressed; she watched his back as she took off her clothing and wanted to cry, but this time for an altogether different reason. He did not sneak a peek even though he would have liked to.

"I'm ready," Rosalie chimed as she slid between the sheets, and she knew, without a doubt, that she was.

Emmett turned around slowly, his movements controlled and cautious. He smiled at her before gently lowering himself to the bed, lifting the covering, and lying down next to her. Rosalie returned his stare and reached out to brush her fingertips over his naked chest.

Thrilling in the warmth of him, she drew her body closer, pressing her equally exposed torso against his. Emmett sighed in contentment.

"I love you, Rosie," Emmett said, before lowering his lips to hers. He was careful to keep his hips to the side; he did not wish to frighten her again. Rosalie felt Emmett holding himself back, and, although she appreciated it, did not want him coddling her anymore. She tugged his hips flush with her own and then rolled onto her back, bringing Emmett with her.

"Touch me," she whispered. Emmett gladly complied, bringing his right hand down to gently cup her breast, their lips still connected. Rosalie moaned. He broke the kiss to explore her throat, the tiny dip at the apex of her shoulder and neck, and the exquisitely flavored flesh of her earlobe. Emmett's traversing lips smoothly dragged through the valley between her breasts and rested on her abdomen.

Rosalie felt Emmett's care for her in each breathy kiss and soft touch. Emmett felt Rosalie's trust through each encouraging word or movement of her hands.

"Okay, Em," Rosalie said, pulling Emmett's face up to hers so he would know she was being honest. "I want you now."

Emmett would have waited forever on Rosalie, but she loved him, so she would not make him. He slid inside her gradually, reveling in the rightness of being connected to her. Instead of feeling invaded, Rosalie felt full, and she moaned in relief and the gratification of it.

Emmett kept his eyes open because she was so beautiful, and Rosalie kept her eyes open to remember that it was Emmett moving inside her.

Gently, he made love to her, smoothing away her trepidations with his lips, blotting out her fear with the heels of his hands, erasing her scars with the movement of his hips.

Rosalie closed her eyes, happy to join Emmett in a different kind of dance.

* * *

**End note: I want to give a big thank you to einfach_mich for doing beta work on this for me! Without her this probably wouldn't have made any sense. :D**


End file.
